The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

Behind the earthen slope, only the faint clanging of a red-hot gun barrel could be heard.

Zhao Weiguo lunged forward, first kicking away the grenade beside the machine gunner, then pulling the crooked Type 11 machine gun aside. The assistant gunner wasn't quite dead yet; his fingers reached for his waist.

Zhao Weiguo stepped on his wrist.

"Don't move."

The man uttered a string of Japanese words, his eyes like two glass beads soaked in blood.

Zhao Weiguo did not listen to the whole thing.

The gun butt slammed down.

thump.

The assistant shooter tilted his head to one side.

Down the slope, Old Xu's roar crashed over.

"Mr. Zhao! The left side is silent! Should we rush in?"

Zhao Weiguo grabbed the magazine next to the machine gun, glanced at it, and saw that half of it was still inside. He turned the gun around, pressed it against the gap in the earthen slope, and fired a burst at the burial mound on the right.

Da da da da!

The gunfire ripped along the base of the tombstone, sending stone chips and dirt flying everywhere. The traitors who had been shouting moments before now cowered behind the grave mound like rats with their tails burned, too ashamed to show their faces.

"Old Xu, take the car and leave! Don't linger!"

"And you?"

"I'll cover the rear."

"Bullshit, what right do you have to cut off your lineage, you brat!"

Zhao Weiguo pulled the trigger again, and the machine gun pressed a black line into the front of the cemetery.

"If you keep making noise, will the Wanping garrison load their guns with air rifles?"

Old Xu cursed and turned to greet them.

"Push the cart! Everyone push it! Anyone who falls behind, I'll tie him to the cart shaft!"

The mule cart started moving again.

Li Shuanzi dragged the wounded soldier forward, the bullet pouch on his shoulder making him stagger. He turned around and saw Zhao Weiguo lying alone on the earthen slope, his face filled with anxiety.

"Mr. Zhao, come down!"

Zhao Weiguo did not turn around.

From the blue line in the system, four more red figures emerged from behind the graveyard, moving quickly, trying to carry bread up the earthen slope. The one in front had a command sword hanging at his waist, walked steadily, and held a Nambu pistol in his hand.

He is not a traitor.

Japanese platoon leader.

Zhao Weiguo emptied the machine gun magazine, immediately released it, and slid down the embankment. Bullets swept past his head, snapping a row of dry grass.

The squad leader shouted from behind the slope.

"生け杀り!"

Old Xu couldn't understand, but Li Shuanzi could tell from the tone.

"They want them alive?"

Zhao Weiguo knelt behind the tombstone and replaced the last bridge clamp.

"Then let him die knowing why."

The squad leader, accompanied by three Japanese soldiers, pressed forward, moving far more swiftly than the traitors. Two men affixed tombstones, one circled around the back of the convoy, and the squad leader personally held the center. With a flash of his gun, a soldier beside the vehicle suffered a splatter of blood on his shoulder.

The young wounded soldier's eyes reddened.

"I'll fight them to the death!"

Zhao Weiguo grabbed him by the back of his collar.

"What are you even doing? Just keep pressing the box down."

The wounded soldier gritted his teeth and lay back down on the grenade box.

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the half-collapsed stone altar in the middle of the cemetery.

"Shukui, fire a shot, aim for the table leg."

Li Shuanzi was stunned.

"Hit someone!"

"Hit the table leg!"

Li Shuanzi held his gun and fired at the bottom edge of the stone offering table.

Snapped!

The stone table was already cracked; the bullet jolted it, causing half of it to collapse and kick up a cloud of white dust. The Japanese soldier who had just rushed there from behind was blinded by the dust and stopped in his tracks.

Zhao Weiguo fired his gun.

Snapped.

The man poured the dry grass.

The squad leader immediately turned around and aimed his pistol at Zhao Weiguo.

Taking advantage of this moment, Zhao Weiguo flashed out from the left side of the tombstone, holding the pistol horizontally, pressing the muzzle against the other person's chest.

Snapped!

The squad leader felt a jolt in his chest, but he didn't fall; it felt like steel plates were stuffed inside his thick cotton uniform. He gritted his teeth, raised his gun, and a sinister smile twisted his lips.

Old Xu pounced from the side.

"I'll do it!"

"Get down!"

Zhao Weiguo's roar was as short as a knife.

Old Xu forcefully threw himself into the mud.

The squad leader's bullet grazed over his head, struck the tombstone, and sparks flew. Zhao Weiguo rolled close to the squad leader's legs, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the man's chin.

The squad leader's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

"eight--"

Snapped.

Gunshots rang out among the tombstones.

The Japanese platoon leader fell backward, his pistol slipping from his hand and crashing down in front of Old Xu.

The traitor on the right side of the cemetery saw this and turned to run away.

Old Xu grabbed the Southern pistol and the commander's sword, his voice cracking.

"The Japanese leader is dead! Charge!"

Shouts also rang out from the front of the convoy at the gate of Wanping City.

"The ammunition has arrived! Get in position!"

The firelight from the city wall shone down, and several soldiers from the 29th Army rushed out of the gate, bending low as they ran towards the mule cart. Some carried bullets, some carried wounded soldiers, and some saw Zhao Weiguo emerge from the graveyard, still dragging his Type 96 machine gun, and their steps faltered.

"Where...where did this child come from?"

Old Xu, his face covered in mud and blood, pointed at Zhao Weiguo, laughing as if he were crying.

"Stop talking nonsense!"

"Call him Mr. Zhao!"